


Of Polar Bears

by 30toseoul



Series: Of Polar Bears/Unsingable Name [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Devices, First Time, M/M, Misunderstandings, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30toseoul/pseuds/30toseoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has about two seconds to watch Sheppard's eyes go wide with shock before everything grays out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sheppard touches the device for two-thirds of a second when it hits, when Rodney staggers away from the lab bench and his hands fly to his ears trying to block out the sound, and he knows it isn't just him because Zelenka and Parrish are reeling back too. It isn't painful, not exactly, it's just

_(too much too soon)_

like standing near the stage at a concert when you haven't gotten used to the sound level yet, and what a stupid analogy when Rodney hasn't been near a live show in at least three years. He doesn't know what made him think that it's

_(like the robbie williams show in auckland)_

and hello, what? He's never seen anything in Auckland that didn't involve the walk between the airport terminals and the McDonald's in the domestic one, and who the hell is Robbie Williams? What the

_(should've known he wouldn't bother with leave, too many pretty toys on the ice)_

and it's stronger but it still isn't painful, not quite. It isn't nearly as loud as before, but it's a lot more focused. He has a flash of a wide amphitheatre with flags waving above the crowd, and the smell of pot and trampled grass and sunscreen and sweat, and then it's gone.

Rodney can see Radek scrambling through the doorway and faintly hears him yelling for the medical team, but he's already slumped halfway to the floor, leaning against the wall, his hands skating along the cool surface as he goes down, and they just better not say that he fainted again. He can only take so much of that.

_(how do I know that he... oh. that's what this thing does)_

He shouldn't feel Sheppard at his shoulder before he realizes that Sheppard's in his _mind_. That's wrong. Rodney knows that Sheppard is holding his arm and easing him down carefully, making sure he doesn't hit his head or fall awkwardly on the hard floor. He'll have to be grateful about that, later.

The rest of him feels like Sheppard is plastered against every molecule of his body, breathing near his ear, sucking out everything on the top levels of his thoughts. Rodney has about ten seconds to regret every time he's made fun of psych majors over the years, because they were right. You can't not think of a blue-eyed polar bear.

He has about two seconds to watch Sheppard's eyes go wide with shock before everything grays out.


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney knows he's in the infirmary without opening his eyes because Carson sticks an IV in his arm every damn time, whether he needs it or not, and he can feel the tape on his skin. "Ow, ow, _ow_ ," he says, and for once he isn't exaggerating. His head is pounding, sharp pain focused right over his eyes, and Rodney raises a hand automatically to block out the light. "Jesus christ, that hurts."

"Welcome back, Rodney." Carson's voice at his elbow, and Rodney squints at him through his fingers. "How're you feeling?"

"Um, _ow?_ Are you deaf?"

"I heard you, yes. Headache? Dr. Zelenka and Dr. Parrish had the same. Lie still, it should fade."

"What happened to--"

It comes back in a sickening rush, all of it, and Rodney stops talking. The lab, Ancient device, Sheppard. Like a thousand other times, except that none of those times involved Rodney's mind being opened like a book.

"Colonel Sheppard tells me you activated something that you shouldn't have," Carson says.

Rodney closes his eyes, very firmly. "You could say that."

"It's off now."

The voice makes him feel like every part of his body is trying to cringe, even his eyelashes and toenails. Sheppard is standing somewhere off to the right. Because naturally, it was a little optimistic to hope that Rodney would never have to see the man again. Atlantis isn't big enough.

"Some sort of mindreading device? It seems that you got a bigger dose, Rodney. What do you remember?"

"It was loud," Rodney mutters, rubbing a thumb between his eyes and _ordering_ himself not to flush. It doesn't work. The tips of his ears feel bright red, and Carson will probably ask him about that in a minute. Stalling for time, he adds, "He was thinking about some concert in New Zealand."

Carson sounds amused. "That's what Dr. Zelenka said. Did you learn anything profound from Dr. McKay then, Colonel?"

 _I learned that Dr. McKay wants to fuck me,_ Rodney imagines wildly. _I learned that I should never turn my back on him, or my front, or any body part at all, because he's got a large catalog of ways that he'd like to fuck me. It's really very detailed. I don't understand how he has time to fix the city after coming up with all of that. Now, if you'll excuse me, Carson, I'd like to run screaming away from this freak, and maybe work on my own catalog of ways to humiliate him with this information for the rest of his life. Thanks for asking!_

What Sheppard actually says is, "No, not much. Some things about Auckland. And polar bears."

"Polar bears?" Carson says, and Rodney can hear him smiling. "That's original, Rodney."

"Yes, right, very original," he says impatiently, and god, it feels like his head is going to explode, right before he dies of embarrassment. "Can't you give me something for this headache? It hasn't gone away in the last five minutes, in case you're taking a poll. Ow, again."

"Here."

Rodney has to open his eyes to accept the pills and a glass of water, and he's never been more aware of his peripheral vision. Sheppard is leaning against the wall about ten feet away, and Rodney's pretty sure that Sheppard is looking at him, but he's not going to test that theory. He puts his hand back over his eyes and lies still, his heart jackhammering in his chest, and wishes desperately that Sheppard would just go away.


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn't have to wonder for long if the mindreading device worked on anyone but Sheppard.

Most of the absolute truths in Rodney's life are about physics and coffee, but a few involve other people. One of them dictates that it would be obvious (painfully, screamingly obvious) if Radek Zelenka knew anything about Rodney's baser desires for military officers, because it would take him a month and a half to stop stammering.

Radek comes into the infirmary and says, "You are feeling better?" and, "I would never guess that Colonel Sheppard liked Robbie Williams," and, "I told you we shouldn't test unknown devices in that way," and Rodney jumps into a loud, bitching argument about experimental procedure to hide the fact that he really just wants to hug Radek out of sheer relief.

Elizabeth visits him next, and then Ronon and Teyla, and then Cadman stops by to mock Rodney for sharing his brain with all the boys and girls. He has to concentrate very hard on being irritated and sarcastic when he's so pathetically grateful to have a flow of people moving around him.

Because Sheppard isn't moving, or talking much at all. He's still leaning right at the corner of Rodney's vision. The telepathy-induced headache is fading slowly, but Rodney thinks he's developing a new one all by himself. It takes a lot of energy to not look at someone so hard.

 _This is karmic revenge for every time I stared at his ass,_ Rodney tells himself grimly.

It's far too soon when Carson starts shooing everyone out of the room, announcing that he needs to run a few last scans on Rodney before releasing him. And Rodney should have known--he should have _known_ that nothing good would ever come from Cadman, that evil manipulative witch, because Carson follows her partway to the door, talking and smiling like a complete idiot, and leaving Rodney alone with Sheppard for the first time since he woke up.

His stomach rolls over in a hard, clenching spasm as Sheppard pushes off the wall and takes a step toward him. "Hey, listen--" he begins, his voice pitched low.

"Oh, just get out," Rodney snaps.

He didn't mean it to come out so vicious. He's tired, irritated, and embarrassed beyond human endurance, but he really didn't mean to sound vicious. Rodney snaps at people all day every day, and he meant to sound the way he always does. Not like Sheppard's making him sick just by standing there. He keeps rubbing his thumb between his eyes and tries again, but his voice still doesn't sound normal. "Look, I'm sorry--please go away, I can't handle this right now."

There's a long beat of silence before Sheppard says, "Fine."

Rodney gives himself an instant to hate the entire Pegasus Galaxy. He never had a problem with acting like a coward until he came here, and now he's acquired this insane habit of _not_ acting like a coward even when he really wants to do it, because that's the only explanation for why he finally forces himself to look up.

Sheppard's expression is flat and completely unreadable for the three seconds before he turns around and goes away.


	4. Chapter 4

Carson's scans last long enough that Rodney gets his supper in the infirmary. He doesn't feel relieved about this, not one bit. He would be perfectly happy to eat in the mess hall, but if they want to bring a tray while Carson fiddles with his voodoo machines, Rodney won't complain.

Well. He might complain a little when they refuse to get him a third helping of lasagna, but that's different.

And if he hounds a medic into bringing a couple of MREs from the old food stores, it's just because the chicken with noodles was always his favorite, followed closely by the beef stew, and because he misses the spearmint gum and little bottles of McIlhenny's tabasco. It hasn't been the same since the _Daedalus_ started bringing other supplies, that's all. It's not because he won't have to go near the midnight meal if he already has food.

His careful reasoning starts to wear thin when Rodney finds himself walking toward his quarters, at high speed and at seven-thirty in the evening. He battles through by reminding himself that he needs to take a shower. He's been collapsing to dirty floors and lying around in germ-filled medical areas all day, and he absolutely has to take a shower.

His reasoning takes another hit when he activates the extra encryption lock on his door, but Rodney can ignore that part.

It isn't until he's mostly undressed that he knows it was a bad idea to think about collapsing to the floor, because he's already half-hard.

 _Oh fuck, no,_ Rodney thinks dismally, rubbing at his face with both hands. _No. I need a shower, another painkiller, and sleep. I don't need to think about anything until tomorrow._

He turns the water much hotter than his usual comfort zone and starts scrubbing down like he's washing a car, quick efficient movements to get the job done as soon as possible. He really is tired, and hopefully if he ignores it for long enough, the unaccustomed hot water and the exhaustion will do the rest for him.

Rodney's clean and uncomfortably warm in less than five minutes, and his cock is still disagreeing with him.

_Goddammit. All right, then._

He leans against the shower wall with one arm, buries his face in the curve of his elbow, and his fingers adjust the temperature buttons out of long practice. Just to the other side of lukewarm, and he gasps against his own skin as the sudden coolness pours down his overheated body, slicking over the back of his neck as he curls his fist around his cock.

It feels good, but after a dozen strokes he realizes dimly that none of his usual mental triggers are going to bring him off.

Rodney curses, his eyes shut tight, pressing his face harder into his elbow. Every one of them -- every single motherfucking one -- is wound up in that shocked look on Sheppard's face, in the Involuntary Sharing of the Fantasies slideshow, and they aren't going to work for him anymore. Not when Sheppard has seen them, when Sheppard knows each of Rodney's personal top-40 masturbation images or sounds or movements. Not when he knows that they're all about him.

Rodney doesn't get off on humiliation; he learned that with his college girlfriend in a role-play that ended in a panic attack. Humiliation just doesn't work for him, and that's as true in the Pegasus Galaxy as it was in the Milky Way. He keeps trying for another few minutes, straining for it, using the stuttering twist of his fingers that sometimes makes him come when he isn't expecting it to work, but nothing happens. His mind keeps flicking anxiously back to Sheppard's wide eyes and half-open mouth, not in the good way that it used to.

He lets go of his cock and slams both hands against the wall, moaning in quiet frustration, the water smoothing uselessly over his shoulders.

_Use it, then. You want to, and it'll work._

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to think about anything that happened today, he wants to block it out forever and pretend it never happened, and that's exactly the plan he intends to carry out tomorrow morning. It never happened, any of it. Sheppard didn't see into his head.

He doesn't want to use those few seconds before he realized what the telepathy was doing, before everything that he wanted to keep away from Sheppard was leaping right to the surface of his mind. Those few blissful seconds when it felt like he was touching Sheppard all over, inside and outside, Sheppard's mind pressed against him and the sound of Sheppard's breathing and his heartbeat and the smell of his skin everywhere, surrounding him and almost _drowning_ \--

Rodney reaches blindly for his cock again, his face turned sideways into the cool spray of the water, and it only takes four strokes before he comes so hard it feels like pain, gasping and dropping his head to his chest, arching forward and biting his lip to keep from screaming.


	5. Chapter 5

Rodney deals with stupid people constantly. It's a fact of life, considering that he's head and shoulders and a couple of skyscrapers more intelligent than almost everyone he knows. He thinks that he usually deals with them pretty well. Even Kavanagh, who actually isn't stupid as much as willfully, pessimistically ignorant, which is even more annoying than base stupidity.

He usually finds snide and creative ways to insult whatever Kavanagh is currently wrong about, rather than simply telling the man to go fuck himself.

The part where he yells it and throws a battery charger against the wall probably isn't the best idea, either.

There's a careful thirty seconds of silence when everyone in the lab looks at him sideways and then looks away, pretending to be very busy with their work, and Kavanagh gives him a bewildered, resentful glare before backing away.

"Rodney," says a voice at his shoulder and he turns to find Zelenka regarding him with exasperation. "We can get new equipment from Earth now, but I don't recommend that you shatter everything into pieces for fun."

"I didn't throw it at his head, did I? Someone should give me a medal for that."

Radek sighs and waves a hand at him. "Go. Go find more coffee, go to your meeting, come back in a better mood."

"I'm in a fine mood," Rodney shoots back indignantly. "Did you just meet me? This is as good as... oh _shit_ , the _staff_ meeting."

He forgot all about the ten o'clock staff meeting. He hadn't forgotten about it when he woke up at six and came to the lab; it had been the only thing on his mind, the fact that he absolutely couldn't avoid seeing Sheppard there, and how Rodney was determined to conduct himself with a little dignity today. Worrying about it seemed pointless, so he'd buried himself in the hardest, most distracting work he could find, and now he has about six minutes to get to the briefing room on time. Being late would just make it look like he's still avoiding Sheppard on purpose.

He makes it with two minutes to spare, rushing in with his laptop and a cup of coffee, sliding into an empty seat at the end of the table. Everyone else is already in place and he nods around the room, returns Teyla's murmured hello, rolls his eyes at Elizabeth when she smiles at him and says, "Wondered if you might have overslept, Rodney." It's just his luck that Sheppard is sitting right across from him. Rodney includes him in a general nod to Beckett and Lorne, his eyes skating over all three of them, trying for a normal-distracted setting, and flips his laptop open.

It's been a quiet week. The meeting is more a formality than anything else, reporting power usage and personnel issues and new discoveries around the city. Rodney's silently grateful when no issues arise that he would be expected to argue and berate people about, because his concentration is totally not up to the task.

Fifteen minutes later, he relaxes enough to glance around the room again, and he finds Sheppard staring at him.

It catches him so off-guard that he doesn't look away immediately. He doesn't look away as Sheppard twists his chair to face Rodney directly and leans back, one arm sliding to hook casually over the back of the chair, lounging in a slow, deliberate sprawl and Rodney is helpless to look away, he's totally fucking unable to keep his eyes from dropping down to Sheppard's chest and stomach and the line of his hips above his belt as he leans back, his jacket spreading apart and the black cotton of his t-shirt pulled tight.

It feels like an eternity before Rodney realizes what he's doing, and jerks his eyes back up.

Sheppard's expression hasn't changed. It's the same look he was wearing in the infirmary, blank and inscrutable, until he raises one eyebrow about two millimeters.

Hot blood slams into Rodney's face and he looks away so fast that he almost gives himself whiplash.

He should have expected it. He knows he should have. Sheppard's made fun of him for everything under the sun, everything under a few _dozen_ suns, and Rodney's done the same to him; the foundation of their working relationship is biting sarcasm and mockery, and he doesn't know why he expected this to be any different.

Maybe he just didn't expect Sheppard to _taunt_ him with it. Didn't expect him to be so goddamn obvious about using the very personal, very private things that he was never supposed to get out of Rodney's mind.

By the time Elizabeth wraps up the staff meeting, Rodney's so furious that his hands are shaking. He has to keep his eyes fixed on his laptop until the others have filed out, he has to battle to keep calm and look normal before he can get to his feet and stalk out into the gateroom.

Sheppard is talking with Teyla near the main console, something about afternoon training sessions for the newest Marines. At the first break in the discussion, Rodney steps up behind him.

"Colonel Sheppard," he says curtly. "A word, please."

Sheppard turns around like he was waiting for Rodney's voice. "McKay," he says, like a question. He looks a little odd, kind of tense and wary, and Rodney is distantly glad to see it. If Sheppard grinned at him right now, Rodney thinks he might lose his remaining bits of self-control.

He jerks his head for Sheppard to follow him, walking down one of the railings until they're out of earshot from everyone else. When he turns around, Sheppard is watching him warily, one hand shoved in the pocket of his fatigues. "Rodney, listen, I wanted to talk to you after--"

"No, _you_ listen," Rodney snarls, jabbing a hand at Sheppard. He can already feel himself losing control of this conversation, knows that it will be readily apparent to everyone in the gateroom that they're arguing, but he suddenly doesn't care. "I don't want to talk about this. You learned some private stuff about me. I never wanted you to know it and I can't make you forget it, but I _don't_ want to talk about it again."

Sheppard's eyes narrow at him, fast. "I didn't go looking for the fact that I've been your personal jerk-off material for a year, McKay. You were almost screaming it at me."

Rodney's face is burning, flaming, but he's angry enough that it doesn't matter. "That wasn't my fault," he grits out. "And I swear to god -- I swear, Colonel, if you _ever_ try to use that information against me again--" He jerks his hand toward the briefing room, "--if you ever do _that_ again, I will never forgive you for it. Never."

Sheppard crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back, his face smoothing out, settling into a neutral expression so fast that Rodney isn't sure if he was really angry to begin with. "Right. That's fine, Dr. McKay. Anything else?"

 _"No,"_ Rodney says. When he pushes past Sheppard and walks away fast, keeping his chin raised defiantly, it isn't because his stomach is roiling with fury and shame and sick hurt, it isn't that at all, it's because breakfast was hours ago and he hasn't eaten since then and he just needs to find a powerbar or something. That's all it is.


	6. Chapter 6

If Stargate Command ever finds itself mounting another expedition like Atlantis, Rodney plans to recommend that they spend a little less time explaining the "might be a one-way trip" part and a little more time stressing the "might resemble life in a first-year university dorm" part. Not so much with water-balloon fights and drinking large volumes of questionable alcohol--though, yes, both of those are more common since the _Daedalus_ started its trips and the Athosians figured out that the Marines would jump at the chance to trade Gameboy rentals for jugs of mainland-brewed wheat ale.

It's more the fact that with less than two hundred people living and working in each other's pockets, everyone knows almost every damn thing about everyone else.

These people are the worst bunch of gossips Rodney has ever met. They're worse than the McMurdo galley staff by a factor of ten, and that's really saying something. Apparently this is what happens when grown adults don't have yardwork, children, automobile maintenance, or cable television to occupy their time.

Before supper that evening, six people ask him directly or indirectly about his argument in the gateroom with Sheppard.

Elizabeth is the first, which isn't surprising because she probably saw the whole thing from her office. She shows up in the lab half an hour later, pulls him aside and asks, "Is there something I need to know, Rodney?" When he insists that there isn't, she gives him a long look of tolerant disbelief and says, "You'll let me know when there is, then," before leaving. Which is definitely surprising, but Rodney guesses she's learning to tone down the mother-hen behavior a little bit. It's about time.

He kicks himself for thinking that, because Heightmeyer sits down with him during lunch. His digestion isn't great to begin with. He really doesn't need to duck unsubtle cues about the problems of civilian and military interaction while he's trying to eat.

Radek spends part of the afternoon looking at Rodney out of the corner of his eye. Rodney finally throws a pen at him and barks, " _What?_ " and Radek says thoughtfully, "Trying to remember last time you had a fight with someone that wasn't screamed over all of Atlantis. I don't think this has happened before. We should declare a holiday."

Cadman walks in while he's searching for more things to throw, and Rodney points vehemently into her too-innocent face and says, "Go away, immediately," and she tips him a wink and says, "Love you too, Rodney," before strolling back out.

The most unexpected visitor is Parrish, and Rodney can't figure out if he was actually asking or not. He stutters his way through something nearly incoherent about the difficulties of life in Atlantis and about appreciating Rodney's leadership of the science team, and then he hands over a bag of Royal Kona coffee and runs away.

After that, Ronon is almost a welcome change. He sticks his head in the door and calls, "Hey, McKay, what'd you do to piss off Sheppard? He's a lot better at target practice when he's mad," and Rodney yells back, "Get the fuck out of my lab, you sasquatch, and tell everyone to quit asking me that!" and Ronon offers one of his rare grins before disappearing.

It isn't quite logical, but Rodney finds himself in a better mood as he heads to the mess hall for supper. He should probably be grateful toward the city's population for being such a nosy group, because it feels better to be irritated at a wide range of people rather than restricting it to Sheppard.

His improved mood lasts until he goes through the supper line and hears his own name as he walks into the mess hall.

"--in McKay's head? I'd never recover."

The burst of laughter is loud and echoing. Rodney looks left instinctively, sees a table full of Marines and a few _Daedalus_ technicians he half-recognizes. One of the sergeants says something he can't hear and laughter sweeps through the table again, and Rodney's entire body goes cold as he sees Sheppard at the far end, grinning and adding something that almost makes two of the Marines choke on their food.

 _Walk away,_ says a quiet voice inside him. _Right now, put the tray down and get out. Don't do anything stupid. There are dozens of people in this room._

Rodney doesn't understand how he manages it. Most of him is aching to hurl his tray right at Sheppard's head, maybe pick up a fork and try to jam it into Sheppard's fucking _eye_ , but he doesn't do it. He turns away very calmly, dumps his untouched tray of food at the dishwashing point, and walks out of the room.

He's three corridors away before he hears footsteps coming after him.

"McKay! McKay, would you wait? Hey!"

The quiet voice stops working as soon as Sheppard jogs up behind him. He drops everything in his hands ( _my laptop!_ yelps a different, indignant voice) and whirls around, plants his right foot and throws the hardest punch he can manage at Sheppard.

Who pivots about eighteen inches to the side, catches his wrist, and shoves him face-first against the wall. It's so easy that Rodney feels yet another kind of humiliation rising to join the several others already in progress.

He can barely move; Sheppard has his right arm twisted up behind his back, and he's using all of his weight to pin Rodney against the wall. It doesn't matter that Rodney had a detailed category of fantasies about something like this; his vision is blurred with anger and the choking desire to beat the smile off Sheppard's smug face, and he can't tell how long he struggles uselessly and tries to kick back at Sheppard before he finally registers the voice in his ear.

"--wasn't laughing at you! Rodney, listen to me! I wasn't laughing at you! Will you quit that, you're going to hurt yourself," Sheppard hisses. His fingers are biting painfully into Rodney's wrist and elbow. "Cut it out, for fuck's sake. Are you listening to me? _I wasn't laughing at you._ "

"I heard you, I _saw_ you," Rodney growls, trying unsuccessfully to smash the back of his skull into Sheppard's face. "Don't lie about it, I saw you!"

"No," Sheppard says urgently. "Christ, what kind of a bastard do you think I am? We were joking about the time Cadman got stuck in your head. I didn't say anything about--about yesterday. I swear, okay? I was _not_ laughing about that. You hear me?"

Rodney stops fighting gradually until he's standing there with his forehead pressed against the wall, breathing hard. Sheppard loosens his grip a little, but he doesn't let go. "You hear me?" he repeats more quietly.

"Yes," Rodney says, in a hoarse voice that doesn't sound anything like him. He sends out a silent, heartfelt plea to Atlantis that she could maybe open a hole in the floor and swallow him, but she doesn't.

"You gonna try to hit me again if I let you go?"

"No," Rodney mutters.

"What?"

He can feel Sheppard's breath against the side of his neck, and Rodney screws his eyes shut desperately. "No, I said! I won't try to hit you."

Sheppard releases him slowly. His fingers are still curled loosely around Rodney's wrist, and it's a weird feeling as Rodney turns around and his wrist rotates in Sheppard's hand, fingers against his pulse for a long instant before Sheppard pulls away.

The silence is really, really loud. It's the first time Rodney notices that they're standing in an empty corridor near the storage areas. He hadn't noticed until now, which should freak him out more than it does. He probably would've taken a swing at Sheppard even if they'd had twenty witnesses. The fallout from that would've been lovely.

Sheppard is staring grimly at him when Rodney finishes rubbing his aching shoulder and looks up. "All right. We tried the ignore-it-and-maybe-it'll-go-away method. That didn't work." He palms open the nearest door and points inside. "Come on, Rodney. Now we're going to talk about this."

Rodney's chin comes up almost of its own accord. "No, Sheppard, we're not. I told you--"

" _Rodney._ " Sheppard leans right into his personal space, and Rodney resists the urge to take a step back. "You can talk to me now, or you're off the team until you do. Pick one."

Rodney goes still. "You--you wouldn't do that."

"Try me. I'm not taking you offworld until we fix this. And _you_ can explain the reason to Elizabeth."

His pride makes him glare furiously into Sheppard's stony expression for a long minute, but Rodney knows he doesn't have any choice. He stomps through the doorway and stands in the middle of the room, glowering, until Sheppard kicks a box toward him and gestures for him to sit down.

"I'm sorry I tried to hit you," he says immediately, rapid-fire, his hands clenched together. Maybe if they do this quickly it won't make him feel like such a complete and utter fool. "Not that it matters, I think we've proven that I couldn't land a punch on you if you were blindfolded, but I'm sorry anyway. I shouldn't have done it and I won't do it again. Happy?"

"No, I'm not happy!" Sheppard's voice is loud enough to make him jump, and then stare, because the man looks more pissed off than Rodney can remember seeing before. "I think you're an _asshole_ for assuming that I'd do that, McKay. I _thought_ we were friends, I thought you'd know that I wouldn't take a bunch of private sexual stuff and use it to make fun of you. Guess I was wrong."

"Well, you did it this morning!"

"I didn't do it this morning! Jesus fucking christ, are you the thickest person in the _world_?"

"Yes, in several worlds, and thank you ever so much, Colonel. Please make me feel like a bigger fool. This is a great way to resolve our differences," Rodney spits out. His heart is hammering in his throat, and he thinks he might be sick at any minute.

"You thought I was making fun of you the whole time," Sheppard says, in a slow tone that Rodney doesn't understand. And he doesn't look angry anymore so much as stunned, and he frowns oddly as he asks, "Why do you think I'd do that?"

"Hello, you were in my head! Don't try to tell me you were singing glorious refrains of joy about the information, because I was there too. You weren't. It felt like you were going to die from shock."

"Oh my god." Sheppard drops his face into his hands. "Rodney, we really need to start over."

"I don't think we do."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sheppard mutters between his fingers, half to himself, and then he looks up, clearly aggravated. "Will you _listen_ to me, at least?"

"I'm listening," Rodney says mulishly. "Don't have a lot of choice, do I?"

"Look." Sheppard breathes out like he's trying to keep his temper and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "In the space of fifteen seconds, I learned that you've been fantasizing about me for a year and that Parrish hasn't slept in his own bed for three months because he's sleeping with my 2IC, who is almost insanely possessive. Oh, and that Zelenka's crush on Elizabeth is kind of sweet, but half the time he would happily trade her for a pint of Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream. It was a lot of information to absorb at once."

Whatever he expected to hear, it wasn't that. Rodney gapes at him. "Are you _serious?_ "

"Yeah." Sheppard's mouth twitches. "I'd pick the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, myself."

"Coffee Heath Bar--no, that's not..." Rodney frowns and waves a hand in frustration. "I mean, Parrish and _Lorne?_ I haven't gotten laid since we came through the damn stargate, and Parrish has been hitting _that_ practically since the day he got here? That's so wrong! First of all he's a _botanist_ , and secondly--"

"Rodney, hey." Sheppard waves his own hand in front of Rodney's eyes, snapping his fingers.

"What? Oh, yes, right, not really the point," Rodney admits. "Although, if he really thinks that I saved his boyfriend from a court martial, a four-ounce bag of coffee is some seriously lousy payment, you know, he could have--"

"Rodney!" Sheppard looks annoyed, but in that weirdly affectionate way that kickstarted Rodney's inappropriate crush a year ago.

He crosses his arms over his chest and says sullenly, "Well, I'm sorry if you had trouble processing all of the sudden gayness, Colonel. Next time we'll pencil a little pink triangle into the corner of our mission patches, or something."

"Jesus, Rodney," and now Sheppard really _is_ laughing at him, but at some point in the last couple of minutes that's become okay, and Rodney feels the knot in his chest loosen. Sheppard is chuckling and looking at him with a strange little smile, a smile that manages to say _you fucking idiot_ without being offensive at all. Rodney never would've thought a smile like that existed.

"Stop laughing at me, jackass," he snaps anyway, on general principle.

Sheppard does, but not without rolling his eyes. "You're the jackass, McKay. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm the military commander of Atlantis. Elizabeth's clout barely saved my job when they were judging me on my performance record. If SGC found out that I go for guys? Caldwell would do a special Earthside turnaround just for me. I'd be gone so fast, you'd barely remember me."

"Not true," Rodney says reflexively, though it feels like ninety percent of his brain is suddenly offline. "You're a big enough jerk to remember for decades."

Sheppard keeps smiling. "Thanks, I'm touched. But you know what I mean."

"I know that your stupid American military is forty kinds of fucked up. More on Sundays."

"Not arguing with you. The flying and the new galaxy are nice, though."

Rodney abruptly runs out of things to say. He stares at Sheppard, and Sheppard looks right back at him, and oh hell, he wishes his skin wasn't so pale because he can feel the flush start at his ears.

"So," Rodney says, and his voice sounds a little rough to himself. "You..."

Sheppard's grin is immediate, and open, and one of the best things Rodney's ever seen in his life. "Not too many straight men in their thirties would go to a Robbie Williams concert, Rodney."

"Oh," Rodney says blankly.


	7. Chapter 7

Atlantis doesn't have much of an air-conditioning hum, not really, because the Ancients were damn good engineers. Rodney's pretty sure that the hum he's hearing is inside his own head. Sheppard hasn't moved, still sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, but his eyes are crinkled speculatively and his grin changes, hardens, into something else.

"Oh my god, _yes_ ," Rodney says without thinking.

He doesn't care at all when Sheppard's face relaxes back into laughter, because he's done with turning red and feeling embarrassed. There are much more interesting things to spend his energy on. Like getting up and closing the distance and using both hands to yank Sheppard to his feet.

Rodney's shoulder twinges a little as he does it, but the pain goes straight to his cock. That twinge is from Sheppard, from Sheppard's hands when they held him against the wall, and now he's pulling Sheppard up by his shirt and then they're kissing fast and wet, Sheppard's hands closing around his wrists and squeezing, their bodies aligning perfectly, and he can feel Sheppard getting hard against him.

His thoughts are momentarily lost in a yammering chorus of _Yes yes yes_ that doesn't break until Sheppard bites at his tongue and Rodney makes a muffled sound that would've been _You little bastard!_ if he wasn't totally unwillingly to pull his mouth away.

Sheppard's the one who leans back first. Rodney tries to follow but he doesn't have the leverage, because Sheppard has an iron grip on his wrists. "Rodney," he says, and his voice has a hoarse note that makes everything go slightly fuzzy in Rodney's mind for a second. _I did that,_ he thinks. _Made him sound like that._

"What?" he demands, still trying to lean forward. Sheppard's mouth is wet and slightly swollen, and he can't stop staring at it.

"We are not doing this in a storage room."

"Quit being such a girl," Rodney says distractedly, struggling to free one of his hands. "We'll lock the door or something, I can--"

"No, McKay."

Sheppard's actions don't seem to be matching his tone of voice. He's pushing against Rodney, hard enough that Rodney loses his balance and falls back a step -- and Sheppard keeps pushing, until Rodney gets the message and lets Sheppard walk him backwards until he hits the wall. "Jesus, what's with you and pinning me to the wall, Colonel?"

"Complaining?"

"No, not really," he says, because Sheppard is nipping a line along his jaw, and fuck, it feels good.

"Anyway," Sheppard says, his mouth right near Rodney's ear. "I mean it, we're not doing this here."

"Whatever you say," Rodney shoots back, his eyes shut in utter bliss as Sheppard's teeth close on his earlobe.

His laugh is low and vibrating against Rodney's neck and between their chests, and Rodney tries to rock his hips harder against Sheppard, who isn't helping in the friction department. He just leans more firmly against Rodney and says, "Remember that thing where I'm still the military commander of Atlantis?"

"Yes, your rank is very sexy, I'll call you Lieutenant Colonel the whole time if you want, just...come _on_ , give me some room to move here."

"Nope."

Rodney has an instant to regret turning down all the self-defense lessons that Teyla has ever offered him, because Sheppard is moving and twisting and Rodney is face-first against the wall again in less than five seconds, Sheppard holding both of his hands pinned in the small of his back. "Sheppard, jesus! Come on!"

"Not in a public storage room, Rodney." Sheppard's voice is thick with satisfied amusement again, and he leans against Rodney's back for a long minute, his breath coming fast against Rodney's ear. "I think I'll take a page out of Lorne's book, though. Get your ass over to my quarters. Make sure nobody sees you."

Rodney draws in his breath with a high, moaning sound as Sheppard releases one of his wrists and slides a hand between Rodney and the wall, palming his cock through his trousers, rubbing and very slightly squeezing, his mouth tracing Rodney's neck for an instant before he lets go and steps away.

Rodney just barely manages to keep his balance, but he doesn't turn around in time to see anything except Sheppard's foot disappearing out the door. He half-staggers back against the wall, cursing and pressing the heel of his hand against his crotch, trying to adjust himself while he mutters, "Oh god, Sheppard, you fucking tease, I'm going to _kill_ you," and tries to fight a grin at the same time, because he's going to be here for a few minutes.

He's done a lot of new and exciting things in the Pegasus Galaxy, but chasing the military commander through the halls of Atlantis with a hard-on probably isn't something that he should add to his list.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time he reaches Sheppard's quarters, Rodney has decided that he loves the entire population of Atlantis with a sincere and lasting devotion. Because he's hardly seen any of them, and none of the others have tried to slow him down with conversation or catastrophic disasters. "Hi, Rodney," or "Hello, Dr. McKay," are the only things he's dealt with, and he feels like he's radiating a visible beam of goodwill. They're beautiful people, every single one of them, even if they're mostly dumb as rocks and twice as useless.

The last hallway is totally, blissfully empty. When the door opens and Sheppard pulls him inside, Rodney almost sings, "God, I _love_ this city," before attacking Sheppard's mouth and trying to remove his pants at the same time.

"By the way," he adds, when Sheppard breaks the kiss to yank at his shirt, "you're an evil bastard for feeling me up and running away, and you're going to pay. Maybe not tonight, but eventually, so keep it in mind."

Sheppard's mouth curves in a grin against his cheek. "I'll do my best," he says gravely, unbuckling Rodney's belt.

"Please do."

The next bit of time is occupied with shoes and clothing flying in various directions, and Rodney doesn't know exactly how he gets himself pushed -- yet fucking _again_ \-- against the wall near the bathroom, and he grabs a double handful of Sheppard's hair to say, "Look, do you have a wall fetish or something? This is getting weird."

"It is?" Sheppard looks thoughtful, pushing Rodney's boxers down almost absentmindedly, and then he shrugs. "We'll have to make it more interesting."

It feels like every molecule of Rodney's body locks up when Sheppard slides down in one graceful motion, coming to rest easily on his knees, his hands trailing from Rodney's chest to his stomach and hips in a line of pressing warmth, and Rodney inhales fast.

"Ah, christ -- you, you have no idea -- or okay, probably you do -- but this is going to be over fast if you go down on me. Not that I don't appreciate it, to put it mildly, but--"

"Rodney," Sheppard interrupts, and Rodney stops talking, because Sheppard is wearing his offworld mission look, the look that usually says _be quiet_ or _stop being rude to the natives_ or _get back to the jumper_. He's always thought that look was unbelievably hot, even when it made him want to kill Sheppard at the same time. He's not really surprised that it works better on him during foreplay than it ever did when they were offworld.

"What?" Rodney asks, sounding more strangled than he intended.

Sheppard's fingers are stroking up and down Rodney's thighs, but his eyes are narrowed purposefully. "I'm fed up with people assuming that I'm a homophobic jerk lately, so if you don't mind, I'm going to suck your cock for a while. That okay?"

 _Stop trying to talk the nice man out of blowing you,_ Rodney tells himself firmly, and says, "Yes, okay. That's -- fine."

"Good," Sheppard says, and the tip of his tongue flicks across his bottom lip as he leans in.

Rodney doesn't hit his head against the wall, because his brain is the most valuable thing in Atlantis and he refuses to damage it during sex, and also because if he knocks himself out, he won't be able to watch. "God, yes please," he breathes, feeling like his eyes are going to pop out of his head as Sheppard's mouth wraps around the head of his cock, which is already leaking, and Sheppard's low hum sends a bolt of twisting, aching pleasure straight to his spine.

 _John Sheppard is sucking me off against a wall,_ he thinks, and doesn't even care that he should be more creative than repeating the obvious.

His warning about coming too soon must have had some effect, though. Sheppard isn't sucking, he's _mouthing_ Rodney, licking in slow swirling patterns like he's testing every ridge of Rodney's cock with his tongue. No real pressure, and his hand isn't stroking, only cupping and gently pressing against Rodney's balls.

It still feels so good that his head wants to explode.

When Sheppard's fingers start to slide back toward his ass, Rodney chokes out rapidly, "Oh damn, don't do that, I'm not going to last ten seconds if you do that, I'm serious, Sheppard, I'm not nineteen anymore here and we're going to be done for a while," and digs his hands into the hard muscle of Sheppard's shoulders, trying to convey how absolutely serious he is. 

Sheppard glances up through his eyelashes, and it's sickening how young that makes him look. "You know, you can call me John while we're doing this," he says conversationally, and licks carefully up Rodney's cock.

"Right, sure," Rodney manages. "I can handle that."

"Say it, then."

"John," he says unsteadily, and Sheppard -- John, fuck, _John_ \-- rewards him by going farther down than should be fucking _possible_ at this angle, almost deep-throating him, and Rodney moans and tries not to jerk his hips into the unbelievably good tightness of John's throat. "Holy fucking -- Sheppard -- John, stop, I'm going to--"

He can barely focus as John pulls back, but it's good, even though his body is screaming at him, because John is back on his feet and yanking Rodney toward the bed. He falls on the mattress with a shuddering moan, trying to distract himself, pressing his hands to the blankets and watching as John kneels beside him and reaches for something on the bedside table.

An economy-sized bottle of Astroglide, and that's suddenly enough to divert Rodney's attention from his painfully hard cock.

"Hey, that thing's half-empty! Are you fucking somebody else?" he demands, rising up on his elbows. It's kind of nice that he's spent the last two days making a fool of himself, because he's way beyond worrying about a little jealousy. Now that he's here, occupying space in John's bed, he doesn't plan to let anyone else share it, and he isn't embarrassed when John returns his glare with an eye-roll.

"No, Rodney," he says patiently. "Believe me, with the grapevine around here, you'd probably know if I was."

"Oh," Rodney says, mollified. "So, you just jerk off a lot?"

"Jesus, you're one to talk, McKay."

"Hey, you're _lucky_ I do, otherwise that stupid Ancient device wouldn't have told you anything except the fact that you need a haircut."

"Lucky me," John says, and shoves Rodney back down on the bed with one hand.

"I'm getting a little tired of your caveman routine," Rodney says irritably, though actually he doesn't have any problems with being flat on his back in John's bed. "We could, I don't know, _discuss this_ , rather than you assuming that I'm automatically going to be the one who -- hey, what are you --"

The answer becomes obvious when John moves, swinging a leg over and straddling Rodney, his knees on either side of Rodney's ribs. "Oh. That works too," Rodney says in a quieter voice, looking up. "Okay, I can handle that too."

John grins down at him, a low beam of anticipation, and says, "I know you haven't gotten laid since we came through the gate, _Doctor_ McKay, but I'll be the one handling it."

"Shut up," Rodney murmurs, but without much conviction, watching the sleek muscles flex in John's arms. "I should have guessed you'd bottom from the top."

He can't believe this is actually happening, that John Sheppard is kneeling and reaching around to slide lubed fingers up his own ass, getting himself ready. John's head tips back and his mouth falls open a little, panting, and his knees press and relax against Rodney's sides as he works.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Rodney says, scrambling to jam a hand down between his legs, and John flinches and snaps, "Hey, that's my job, don't --" and Rodney gasps, "Shut up, shut _up_ , I'm going to come just watching you do that," and twists his fingers hard around his own balls, John glancing back before his expression relaxes into comprehension, and he shoots Rodney a sly look that really ought to get him slapped, even if they are in the middle of having sex, because this is _not_ funny.

For a long space of seconds Rodney isn't sure if it's going to work. He has to close his eyes against the sight of John braced over him because he's right on the edge, shaking and trying desperately not to come, and then it's all right. His body backs off, loosening up, and the dull ache in his balls is a small price to pay.

"Don't look at me like that," Rodney says with his eyes still closed, though he's grinning a little against his will. "Don't even _pretend_ you don't know how long I've wanted this, you smug prick. This is a perfectly natural reaction."

"I didn't say anything," John says in an innocent tone that should also get him slapped, but Rodney finds another use for his free hand, wrapping it around the back of John's head when he leans down for a kiss.

The kiss is slow and wandering, John's tongue moving almost delicately against his lips. It shouldn't help him to regain control because kissing John is still brand new and so hot he can hardly stand it, but somehow it does help. By the time John edges back, reaching behind himself to stroke a lubed hand along Rodney's cock, he's okay. He's not going to lose it immediately when John arches up and sinks down by slow degrees.

"Oh god, holy fuck you're so tight," he rattles out. "Are -- _fuck_ , are you okay-- jesus, John, when was the last time you _did_ this, it feels--" and then Rodney loses his voice completely, moaning and pushing up, staring wildly at the flush on John's face as he rocks up and down, bottom lip caught between his teeth, shoving himself down and watching Rodney's face the whole time, and Rodney lasts for about a dozen strokes before he bites into his bottom lip to keep from yelling when he comes.

He can feel John sliding off, feel him leaning for a handful of tissues to clean up, but Rodney couldn't move if someone held a gun to his head. A final shudder runs through his body when John touches him again, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that John is saying, "Hey, give me some help here," and he rolls with the pressure of John's hands, over on his stomach, landing in a boneless heap.

Rodney can't even make himself react when John pushes his legs apart, when he feels the brush of cool lube against his ass in the instant before John eases two fingers inside him at once.

"You're taking advantage of my incapacitated state," he says blurrily, spreading his legs a little and lifting up at the same time.

"And I feel horrible about it," John returns, the smile audible in his voice as he pushes in with another finger, and then he pulls out and Rodney hears the unmistakable sound of John slicking himself up before he shifts into position.

He's so relaxed that it barely hurts at all, John's cock pushing inside him, especially with the sound of John murmuring, "Come on, let me in, _yeah_ , that's it," and John's body settling down on top of him, picking up a quick rhythm as his mouth lands against Rodney's shoulder and he starts making noise.

There's no way he can come again this soon, but it doesn't matter. Not with John gliding against his prostate on every other thrust and covering his back like a warm, moaning blanket. John's mouth sucking and biting a ragged pattern across Rodney's shoulders, and Rodney moans and drops his head further into the pillow, baring his neck, and John kisses along the top of his spine before his teeth fasten on the nape of Rodney's neck and he groans louder, thrusts harder, one elbow braced on the bed and his other hand wrapped around Rodney's hip for leverage. When Rodney tightens his muscles hard around John's cock, it's almost as good as coming himself when John loses the rhythm and gasps, "Oh jesus yes keep doing that, Rodney, fuck, _keep doing that_ ," and slams into him with a half-dozen ragged thrusts before going still, pressing deep, his face buried against Rodney's neck with a whimpering groan.

He gives John a thirty-count to show signs of life, and then starts moving underneath him. "Okay, recovery time, because you weigh about five hundred pounds."

John's laugh is warm and tickling against his ear. "Don't give me the sweet talk so soon, McKay. I'll start thinking we're in love."

"Oh, you _wish_ ," Rodney says, and smiles into the pillow as John rolls off him and immediately rolls back to curl against his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in the Livejournal **mckay_sheppard** community from 24 April to 9 May 2006.
> 
> When I first posted this story and its companion piece, I included the links for Americans to write to their congressional representatives about repealing the U.S. military's Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. I am so very happy that those links are no longer relevant.


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